


Resistance

by goldtoashes, heirsofbrokenlegacies (jarofhearts)



Series: Discord [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (Mentioned) Elves as test subjects, (but for good reasons), Abusive Relationships, Blood, Gore, Humiliation, M/M, Mairon Makes Bad Life Choices, Mairon's weakness for elves, Melkor is a sadist, Mind Rape, Punishment, Shapeshifting, Torture, Violence, Whipping, Years of the Trees, and Mairon does not enjoy it, power addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21561658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldtoashes/pseuds/goldtoashes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofhearts/pseuds/heirsofbrokenlegacies
Summary: Mairon tests the boundaries of his orders. Melkor makes him face the consequences.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Discord [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537228
Kudos: 40





	Resistance

“How fare our subjects?”

His voice was light, the question deceptively casual. You hesitated for just a heartbeat, wondering whether he knew or whether you were just paranoid.

“Not too well, my Lord. It seems their spirit fades quickly when they are kept underground all the time. We might need to rethink how to accommodate them if we -”

“Accommodate.”

His voice silenced you effortlessly. He came closer, his dark eyes unwavering.

“And how would you go about this?”

You didn’t step back, even though the urge to do so was overwhelming, and tried to keep your voice as unconcerned and rational as possible. “I conducted some experiments and it seems that those who get outside and see the light of the stars from time to time fare much better. Of course, this is hard to achieve here up north. Maybe it would be an idea to construct some additional research facilities further south, where we could study them in a more natural habitat.”

He commented your words with a flick of his hand, a small but unwilling gesture.

“How far along is the research into their anatomy?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze at your next words. “I had drawings of the latest test subject made, as you requested.” 

You could still vividly remember how effortlessly your Master’s hands, ending in sharp, glistening talons, dug deep into the body of the lithe being that was already crying in pain, here, in this very room where you were standing right now. The nauseating sound of bones breaking, flesh tearing, the high-pitched, pitiful scream, warm blood spluttering on your robes and your face… You certainly needed no more experimentation of that kind and it had brought back the nagging feeling of doubt that had been troubling you for a while now.

Something flashed in his eyes, something you could see -  _ feel _ \- even though you were still not looking at him directly.

Only one step and he stood before you, hand coming up to grasp your chin and tip your head up to him.

“Tell me, Fairest…” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, dark eyes studying your face. “Do you feel  _ sorry _ for them?”

Your mouth felt dry all of a sudden, your heartbeat racing until you forced it to slow down again.

“Why would you think that, my Lord?”

There was something almost like amusement in his gaze for the briefest of moments, your question ignored.

“Do you want to plant them a garden in your  _ new research facility _ so they get to see the  _ stars _ ?”

You could not help but glare at him, his scorn stirring your temper. “I am trying to think  _ practical.  _ And I am afraid I fail to realize the stunning insights that will derive from either letting them fade away in the dark or tearing them apart. We  _ know  _ about their anatomy, it is basically the same shape that you and I and all Ainur adopted when descending to Arda. If you ask me, there are far more interesting things to be learned.”

But you were barely able to finish the last word because his fingers tightened on your chin, nails digging into your skin and sending a sting through your body.

He always seemed to grow in anger, you had always thought, becoming more looming, more overwhelming - becoming  _ more _ .

“You know  _ nothing _ . Do not make the mistake of seeing them and us are the same, you're only betraying your own ignorance.”

“It’s just… I  _ know _ they’re the Firstborn, Eru Ilúvatar's very own creation.” It would have been wise just to give in, to not press the issue, not when he was like  _ that _ . But he had unerringly poked at all your frustrations, your doubts, and you just could not make yourself stop, although you tried to make your next words sound more placable. “We waited for them to wake from their sleep for centuries. And now that they finally did, the first thing we do is put them to suffering and pain? It just doesn’t seem…  _ right. _ ”

He snatched his hand away then, a look of derision flashing over his face.

“And Eru Ilúvatar only creates perfection. Is that what you know, Mairon Aulendil?” The expression bled into his voice, a mocking edge to the words. “Greatest of the Maiar, who has grasped Eru's plans from the very first notes of the First Song.” The scorn finally dropped from his words for a thundering anger to once more take its place. “You are not and have never been important enough to understand  _ anything _ . Is that why you have come to me? Because you presume to  _ know better _ ?”

You gritted your teeth, turning away in a pointless attempt to hide your anger, but of course, he knew you far too well to not realize how his words have served their purpose. 

“You know  _ quite well _ why I came to you. I would serve no lesser power than the greatest. And if I am indeed as ignorant as you say, my Master, I suppose being the mightiest and wisest of the Valar, you would not mind enlightening me about the meaningful purpose of what it is we’re doing here.” Mirroring the tone of his voice, you finally looked back to him. "I assume there is a purpose and you have not simply lied to me back in Valinor?"

You were not entirely sure how you expected him to react, a part of you knowing that you were in trouble - you just didn’t know yet how much.

A slow smile spread on his face that looked cold and terrible.

“Oh Mairon. Maybe you simply did not ask the right questions. But now you have asked… and I will show you.”

He moved then, lightning fast - you barely saw the movement, only felt his deadly talons stabbing into your unprotected middle. Excruciating pain shot through your entire body and you could not suppress a short gasp, your knees buckling under you. But his fingers clawed into you held you up, kept you from tumbling to the ground. Instead he walked you backwards, every step sending fresh pain through your body as the talons dug deeper.

“Eru Ilúvatar has created beauty with inherent weakness,” he explained almost conversationally, pushing you up against the wall behind you. Your blood was pouring over his wrist, leaving red drops on the ground in your wake. “How often do you fold metal before the impurities are gone? Before you can mould it into something of real use?” His talons dug into your insides, but his free hand cupped your chin and raised your face to look back at him. “That, you do know, don’t you? Tell me.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, your heart hammering in your chest, your body trying to cope with this sudden shock, the pain and the blood loss. Your instinct was to struggle against his grasp, but the rational part of your mind told you that this would only make it worse, that you would injure this fragile shape more with every movement.

He had demanded an answer, to a question you were only dimly aware of, your mind being too distracted to process all the warning signals your body shot at you. 

“I…” 

The taste of blood, salty and coppery, was in your mouth and you coughed violently to not choke on it. 

He pushed you against the wall again, the back of your head hitting it uncomfortably, though it was still nothing compared to the pain flaring through your middle. His dark eyes blurred in your vision, black sparks dancing around the edges.

“Concentrate, Mairon. And answer my question.”

You tried to refocus, think about what he just said rather than about the sharp claws shredding your insides. To your surprise, the pain seemed to become a little more bearable as you detached yourself from it, as you willed your breathing and your heartbeat to slow down.

“Depends… on the metal, on its... quality, on the temperature…” More blood got in your mouth and you spat it out, disgusted by the taste. “With the average iron that we get from the mountains here maybe fifteen… twenty times…”

“Yes.” He was pleased with the answer, you could hear it. And finally he withdrew his hand from your flesh, more blood pouring out in the absence of the talons.

Without the support, your legs did crumble now and your knees hit the ground hard as he took a step back from you. Your blood was pooling there on the ground, slowly spreading over the dark stone.

“You have to work it before it’s of use. And why do you temper a blade before you can use it? Before the work is finished?”

“To… enhance its strength.” The answer is on your tongue without you having to think about it. “Increase its flexibility… make it less likely to break…” Your eyes trailed down to the wound just below your sternum. Even though the claws were gone and your body was already trying to repair the damage, it looked just as terrible as it felt. Torn flesh glittered in the torchlight, blood still pouring out. Disgusting. You felt the urge to just shift into another form, one that was less susceptible to this kind of damage, but you doubted that he would let you.

“You do know some things after all.” For just a moment, his voice carried a hint of dark amusement, but it quickly hardened again. “Perfection does not simply happen. You have to  _ work  _ for it.”

A creeping cold wandered up your limbs. You blinked and looked up at him, and now you saw that he was uncurling a black whip from his hand, one that looked stiff and crackled like frost. It reminded you of the tools that the  _ Valarauka _ used but of course, their fire would have had little effect on you. Ice, though…

You looked into his eyes, trying to brace yourself for the pain as much as you could. Promising yourself that whatever he did, he would not have your screams.

“Do it, then. I won’t break.”

“No. You won't.”

The words almost sounded reassuring. But then the whip danced and cut across your body, splitting the fabric of your robes with no effort at all. Worse than the terrible sting of it though was the bite of the ice, a cold that shot right into your core and took your breath away. Your body shivered, your skin cracking open as more lashes fell. More blood welling up, tainting the fabric of your tattered robes, running over the floor, beautiful crimson pooling on the black, polished rock. Time seemed to blur and you wondered, absent-minded, how much blood was in the forms of the Children anyway, how much blood loss they could take and, more importantly, how much blood loss  _ you  _ could take before your  _ fana _ would be damaged beyond repair. Even as you detached yourself from the pain as much as you were able, all your power focussed on healing and repairing as much damage as possible, you could feel your  _ fana _ weakening, blackness dancing in front of your eyes. Your limbs started to feel numb, your body trembling uncontrollably, only held upright by your sheer will. 

_ Keep still, don’t move, don’t scream, you can bear this. _

You kept repeating the words in your head over and over again, your mind floating in its own time and space, the pain still present somewhere, somehow, but not affecting you any longer.

Eventually, you realized that the break between the lashes grew too long. A hand finally grasped your chin and tipped your head up, and he was right in front of you, glancing down into your face.

“Now… do you think one of your Firstborn would still be alive after what you just bore?”

You shook your head, negating his question and trying to shake the feeling of dizziness at the same time.

“No… they wouldn’t be.”

He let that stand for a moment, his thumb brushing over your jaw again.

“Dying from the loss of a little blood,” he said finally, a sneer flashing over his face. “Fading because they don't see the  _ stars _ . Tell me, Admirable: Where is the strength in that?”

Again, you thought of the creature you saw dying in here not so long ago, recalled its wails, how it had screamed, how it had broken and faded after only a fraction what you had just suffered through soundlessly. The thought brought up a slight feeling of disdain, accompanied by a sense of twisted pride. 

“There is none.”

“See?” He sounded pleased now, nodding slowly. His eyes were still intent on your face, waiting until you looked at him before he spoke again. “Now… will you allow any more elves to scamper off into the wilds?”

So he  _ did  _ know. It was hardly a surprise, yet it brought a certain sense of alertness back to your exhausted body. 

“They… were as good as dead,” you muttered. “I thought it hardly mattered.”

“Does it feel like it matters to me?”

You nodded, slowly. “You made yourself quite clear, my Lord.”

For a long moment he looked at you, studying you with his impenetrable eyes. But finally, he let go of your chin and straightened.

“Get up.”

You could barely suppress a sigh of relief but instead wordlessly followed his request. Not a simple task, though, with the floor still slick with blood and your body feeling terribly weak. Everything hurt and you gritted your teeth, black spots dancing in front of your eyes. You had to press your hand to the wall for support to prevent a humiliating fall before his feet. You desperately wanted to be out of his presence, to be back in the solitude of your chambers to patiently wait for your body to fully heal itself. 

But it didn't seem like he wanted to let you go just yet. Staying too close to you, reaching out to run his fingers through some strands of red-golden hair, the tips darkened with blood.

“You're not like them, my Fairest. You have been tempered. You  _ are _ strong.”

His hand came to rest on your neck in a light touch.

“You don't break like they do. But you  _ can _ break.”

Before you quite had the time to register the threat for what it was, your head felt like it split open as your mind was invaded uncompromisingly, without care or consideration.

And this time you did scream.

The blinding pain rushing through you was of an entire new quality, as if the talons that had been shredding your  _ fana _ before were now clawing at your spirit. As if pure, raw power was spilling from you like the blood had done before, burning into ashes and leaving you cold and empty with a terrible, aching  _ need _ driving you nearly insane _.  _ You barely noticed your knees hitting the ground again as you broke down, causing several of the wounds to tear open once more, the sensations insignificant in comparison. And this time, you desperately tried to fight back, tried to push him out of your mind, although you realized that your attempt was utterly pointless.

_ Stop this… get out… let me… _

You knew that he could only search your mind if you allowed it, although he could make even that terribly uncomfortable. But he was not looking for anything this time. What you had  _ not  _ known was that he could just  _ hurt _ you like this at will, draining your power and ravaging your mind without hesitation, his voice a terrible thunder inside you as he laughed.

_ You see: This weapon is so much more powerful than any tools that can be applied to the body. _

The next wave sent you fully to the floor, doubling over and gasping for breath.

_ I get it, I do… just stop this… I can’t… _

You could feel his satisfaction and amusement, could feel it like a thousand needles inside your head.

_ How far can you bend before you break, Fairest? _

It took you only a few moments longer to find out, the last shreds of your resistance crumbling like ashes in the wind. The pain, the emptiness, the craving becoming too overwhelming, the only thought remaining that you needed him to -

“Stop it, please…” You barely recognized your own voice, choked and unsteady. “I can’t do this, I… just  _ please, please, make it stop _ …”

For another agonizing moment, you could feel him ripping into you, but then, like the might of a flood ebbing away, so did the pain. He was still there, you could feel him on the edges of your mind, hovering. But the terrible pain was gone.

“Will you make it without my help?” he wanted to know, voice mild. “Or is it too much, to feel this drained… to feel it clawing at your insides, how  _ empty _ you are?”

It took you a while to even understand what he was asking. Dimly, you realized you were lying on the floor, eyes closed, breath ragged, your cheek in a puddle of what had to be your own blood. Your mouth felt terribly dry, every part of your body aching with exhaustion and demanding rest, though you were not sure whether you would have the strength to even crawl away if you tried. And you just wanted him gone, neither wanted his attention nor his faux sympathy, and you most definitely didn’t want him to touch your mind or your body again, to humiliate you even further.

But you needed it. By the Void, how much you  _ needed it _ .

Because even though the pain was gone, so was your power, and you  _ did _ feel terribly empty, the awful longing deep inside you growing worse. The ever encouraging, sweet whisper that had been singing in your blood turned into a roaring, savage feeling of hunger that demanded its right with such ferocity that you could not think straight, could focus on nothing but how to satisfy it, not later, not in time but  _ right now, right here… _

“My Lord…  _ Master _ … please… don’t leave me like this.”

Your voice was a mere whimper and you just hated yourself for the sound of it. 

You couldn't see his face but you imagined that he was smiling. After a moment, you heard his robes shift, and then his hand touched your head, large enough to half cover it, sliding into your hair.

It started building there first, like the glow of a spark growing into a fire that spread through your body and filled you with heat. Raw power that had been pulled from your veins flowed back into you like a trickle first, but then rapidly building. The effect was immediate, heaviness and exhaustion dimming, your senses, your mind, your body returning from their numb state as the familiar and yet still exciting rush kicked in. Greedily, you drank what he gave you, knowing that it would not be enough to completely satisfy your hunger anyway, could  _ never  _ be enough.

But at least you had this, and after what he had just taken from you, right now, it was what you needed.

The flow stopped eventually, his hand retreated from your head and you felt his presence withdrawing as well, inside and out. Finally, it felt like you were alone again in the confines of your own mind, and you had regained your strength to heal the open wounds on your body. With the ecstasy slowly receding, the feeling of utter exhaustion returned, the urge overwhelming to be alone somewhere you could heal and rest and push back the thought of what just happened. You tried not to look at him as you struggled to get back to your feet, which, fortunately, you managed without tumbling down again. You were stained and sticky with blood everywhere, and the whole experience was humiliating enough as it was.

You felt his eyes on you, unwavering and intense, his voice back to that deceptive mildness when he said, “That’s better, is it not?”

The question was rhetorical, of course, but you sensed what he wanted to hear from you. And you had no interest in prolonging this situation any further by defying him again. You had tried to do so, and failed in every sense of the absolute.

“It is,” you answered stiffly, fumbling with your torn robes just to have a further excuse to not look at him. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“You’re welcome,” he said mildly, almost amicably, watching you with his arms crossed over his chest. He was not going to move first, you realized, but would wait and watch until you had dragged yourself away with as much dignity as you could scrape together now.

“Is there anything else?”

“We’ll get back to our anatomy research later,” was the answer you got which, you knew, was both a reminder and a dismissal.

You nodded, bowed and left the room as quickly as you could without making it appear like a panicked flight. You made it out and around the next corner of the corridor maintaining your self-possession when the world suddenly started to blur and get dark before your eyes and you had to reach for the wall for support, your body shaking, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

_ Calm down. Your body is exhausted. This is to be expected after what you… what he… _

_ No. Focus. _

Fortunately, the corridor was empty, but a rational part of your mind reminded you that Melkor’s lieutenant could not just walk through Utumno as beaten, bloody, and shaken as you were. And the less rational part of you wholeheartedly agreed. This so familiar, favorite shape of yours suddenly filled you with a wave of disgust, the urge to change it never having been as strong as it was now.

This time it was not your bruised hands and knees that hit the ground but soft paws, much more graceful and elegant.

_ Better. So much better. _

Of course your wolf shape was still injured and bleeding, just as your Elven shape, but at least it would attract less attention. You would find a dark spot somewhere where you could curl up, rest and lick your wounds, and when you returned, you would be  _ just fine. _

Or so you hoped.


End file.
